


The Jorgan-Riggs Saga

by Asajii



Category: Nym's Nebulous Notions
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Minor Character Death, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Some Swearing, Suicidal Thoughts, Wedding Fluff, childhood illness, i love that that was a tag already
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 01:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21028199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asajii/pseuds/Asajii
Summary: Exploring the lives of the family who died before you could meet them in your favourite space-based, found-article, audio-drama.





	1. Bea and Arthur Get Married

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks, I hope you enjoy these drabbles. They are not edited and from 2016, when I was writing the bulk of the family logs for the audio drama Nym's Nebulous Notions - https://nymsnotions.com/

> Bea Jorgan of B’s Auto Repair, and Arthur of Art’s Tax House would like to announce their recent engagement. The ceremony is to be held at the park, and everyone in town is welcome to attend. There will be a reception afterwards. Sausages, onion, bread, and sauce will be provided, but the reception is strictly BYO. Salads and other plates will be welcomed heartily. There will also be cake, courtesy of Elena’s Decadent Confections. — printed in the Lajamanu Weekly, a newspaper released weekly on Saturdays.

* * *

**Oct 22, 2210**

“Bea.”

“What?”

“Bea.”

“What?”

“Bea.”

“What?”

Art walked into the living room with a big dopey grin on his face, where Bea was putting Jordan almonds in little organza bags, wiping his glasses with his shirt.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

Bea looked up, and smiled wearily at him.

“Yes, we are. Thank you for reminding me, I would have forgotten otherwise,” there was no heat in her words, “Come help me with these almonds, would you?”

Art put his glasses on, and plonked himself on the floor in front of the coffee table. He grabbed some little organza bags, and got to work.

* * *

The next morning Art was hustled off by Jay, his best man, so the soon-to-be-married couple could get ready in separate peace.

“Jay, I’ve already seen the dress, what’s the big deal?”

“Yeah but you haven’t seen it on, that’s the big deal. Come on chief we’ve got work to do.”

Art grumbled, but followed his friend. They went to the park, where the wedding would be held, and got it set up. They had garlands of white and purple daisies to wind around the arch, and some chairs to set up for the old people who were coming to the ceremony.

They put some very nice, plastic, tablecloths on the picnic tables in the park, and on the motley assortment of tables that had been donated by the people in the town for the occasion. There were more flowers that went in the middle of each table, and a bag of Jordan almonds for each person on the table. With that finished, and the ceremony in an hour, they hustled off to Jay’s house to get ready.

Art and Jay both had charcoal linen suits. Art’s shirt was a pale blue, to match the dress Bea would be wearing. Jay had a cream shirt, to match Gracie’s, who was Bea's maid-of-honour, dress. They had forgone ties, vests, and cummerbunds in favour of comfortable and loose clothes. It was only going to get to 31°C that day, but the sun was expected to be out, and that always made things seem hotter when you were standing in it for hours on end.

Art walked down to the public house where his family was staying. He and Bea hadn’t had enough room to put them all up at theirs, so they rented out the entire hotel for the occasion. Art’s mum was there, as were his two sisters and their kids. His brother couldn’t make it, but he was living in the Russo States at the moment anyway, so that was expected. Art missed his Dad. He would have loved to have shared this with him, would have loved to introduce his Dad to Bea. They would have gotten along well, they had the same earnest gruffness to them.

* * *

Bea was woken when Gracie jumped on her bed, bottle of sparkling something in one hand.

“Rise and shine, douche b. You’re getting married today and you look like someone ran over you with a truck.”

“Rack off Gracie.”

“Can’t, you gotta get pretty for your big day.”

“Art just left, he’s already seen me like this. Rack off.”

“Nah,” Gracie went silent for a minute, “Want some eggs?”

“Yeah, alright.” They went downstairs, and Gracie cooked enough eggs for the both of them. Bea got orange juice, and they ate in silence.

“Come on, let’s get you pretty.” Gracie and Bea went upstairs, and Gracie did their makeup. Simple, so it wouldn’t melt off the the Lajamanu heat, but enough to uplift Bea’s natural beauty into something unreal, the shimmery peach coloured eye-shadow Gracie had dusted on Bea’s lids made her brown eyes stand out.

Bea pinned her hair up in a simple twist, and Gracie dashed downstairs to retrieve something. It was a crown of forget-me-nots.

“For your something blue,” she said, carefully placing the delicate flower crown on Bea’s head and pinning it place. Bea stood, and hugged her friend.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” Gracie beamed, and pulled away.

“Come on, dress time.” She helped Bea into her simple dress. It was also blue, and tea length with cap sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and a full skirt. There were deep pockets on the sides of the dress, so she could keep her phone and keys and other gadgets close.

“So, the dress is something new, and the crown is something blue. Where’s your - Oh. Oh, Bea.”

Bea had opened a worn old shoe box to reveal a very fine lace veil. It has a comb, and was designed to slot into the back of an updo. It had been her mother’s, and her grandmother’s before her, and her grandmother’s mother, and so on for eight generations of Jorgan women.

It was the oldest, and most precious thing Bea owned.

She handed the box to Gracie, and turned around. Gracie carefully slid the comb into Bea’s hair, careful not to mess up the updo. Bea turned, wiping tears from her eyes, to see Gracie doing the same thing.

“Oh, cut that out, I don’t want to do your makeup again, once was bad enough. You flinch so much.” Gracie punched Bea’s arm lightly.

“Alright. That’s sorted, what’s your something borrowed?”

Bea went to her wardrobe again and grabbed a pair of shoes.

“Art’s sister is lending these to me. She saw the dress and offered me them outright, but I thought they’d be a better something borrowed.”

They were a low wedge heel in cream and cork. Bea sat on her bed, and slid them on.

“There. Done.”

“Good! Well I guess I see now why I’m in cream. Let me get this on, and we’ll go get our bouquets.” Gracie had done her makeup and hair before arriving, so it was a matter of minutes before they were both ready to go.

Gracie drove them to the shop where she worked and let herself in. She came out a few minutes later holding a large bouquet of purple and white daisies, forget-me-nots, and fine sprays of fairy fern in one hand, and a smaller matching one in the other. She gave them both to Bea, the bases wrapped in plastic and brown paper.

* * *

They pulled up in the car-park just off the park grounds. There were a lot of people milling about - nearly the whole town had shown up. Amelia, from the bakery, was carting a giant tub filled with bags of bread and set it down next to the four plate barbecue. Steve, the butcher, wasn’t far behind her, carrying an esky no doubt filled with sausages. His apprentice, Thomas, was following along, carrying another esky that was also filled with sausages.

George, who ran the grocers, was wheeling a trolley stacked with cans of soft drink, and his daughters were dumping ice into large tubs and layering the waiting cans inside. Jim, who owned the bar and who was also the local minister, was waiting near the arch chatting to Art and Jay. Steve and Thomas had fired up the barbecue, so the plates would be hot enough by the time the ceremony was over.

Julie, who was playing the keyboard for the ceremony and then who owned the datapad where the music would come from during the reception, started playing the wedding march, and everyone looked up. The elders were already seated, waiting for the ceremony to start. Anyone else who wasn’t helping set up - which was to say the children and their minders - were milling around the seated area in two loose groups, forming an aisle in the middle.

The people who were helping set up put their tasks aside, and joined the others in making an aisle for Bea and Gracie to walk down. Jay and Art were standing at the end, and Art was looking directly at Bea, just as dumbstruck by her beauty as the day he met her. There was a crinkling of paper, as the assembled crowd brought out their wedding pamphlets.

Art had wanted a traditional Catholic wedding. Bea had agreed, as long as it was in a park and they had a barbecue afterwards. Jim was happy to perform the rites, even though he was part of the spaghetti church. The rest of the town thought it was a brilliant novelty, many of them subscribing to the traditional beliefs of the land.

Gracie started down the aisle, and Bea waited a four-count before following on behind her friend. They both made it to the end of the aisle without tripping, and the crowd spread out a bit so they could see and hear better now that their job as an aisle was over.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Jim called.

“Amen.” the crowd replied. Arthur crossed himself, as did his parents and family. Everyone else belatedly followed suit.

Jim extended his hands to the crowd and said “My dear friends, you have come together in this park, on this beautiful spring day, so that, in the presence of this community, these two may seal and strengthen their love. And so, in the presence of the gathering, I ask you to state your intentions.”

Jim looked up at Art and said, “Arthur Theodore Christopher Romano, and Beatrice Margaret Jordan have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage? Will you love and honour each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”

Art dragged his gaze away from Bea to meet Jim’s eyes, “Yes.”

“Yes, of course.” Bea said.

Jim continued, “Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church, such as we are in this park.”

“I, Arthur Theodore Christopher Romano, take you Beatrice Margaret Jorgan, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honour you for all the days of my life.”

“I, Beatrice Margaret Jorgan, take you Arthur Theodore Christopher Romano, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honour you for all the days on my life”

“You have declared your consent before this gathering. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide.”

“Amen,” answered Art’s family, with the townsfolk a beat behind.

“Lord, bless these rings, which we bless,” Jim crossed himself, “In your name. Grant that those who wear them, that they may always have a deep faith in each other. May they do your will, and always live together in peace, good will, and love.”

“Amen”

Jim gestured to Art, who took the ring from Jay’s waiting hand.

“Bea, take this ring as a sign of my love, and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy spirit.” Art says, voice shaking as he slides the simple rose gold band onto Bea’s finger.

Bea reached back, and Gracie handed her Art’s ring, a matching band, “Art, take this ring as a sign of my love, and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy spirit.”

Jim nodded, and continued, “Receive, we pray O Lord, the offering made on the occasion of this sealing of the sacred bond of Marriage," you could hear the capital M in marriage as Jim said it, "And, just as your goodness is its origin, may your providence guide its course.Through Christ our Lord.”

Jim gestured to the pamphlets, and there was another rustling of paper as everyone found their places.

“The Lord be with you.” called Jim.

“And with your spirit.” responded the crowd.

“Lift up your hearts.” 

“We lift them up to the Lord.”

“Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.”

“It is right, and just.”

“It is truly right and just, our duty and our salvation, always and everywhere to give you thanks.”

Jim joined his hands together, and continued, “Dear brothers and sisters, let us humbly pray to the Lord that on these his servants, now married in Christ, he may mercifully pour out the blessings of his grace and make of one heart in love those he has joined by a holy covenant.

“O God, who by your mighty power created all things out of nothing, and, when you had set in place the beginnings of the universe, formed man and woman in your own image, making the woman an inseparable helpmate to the man, that they might no longer be two, but one flesh, and taught that what you were pleased to make one must never be divided;

“O God, who consecrated the bond of Marriage by so great a mystery that in the wedding covenant you foreshadowed the Sacrament of Christ and his Church;

“O God, by whom woman is joined to man and the companionship they had in the beginning is endowed with the one blessing not forfeited by original sin nor washed away by the flood. Look now with favour upon these your servants, joined together in Marriage, who ask to be strengthened by your blessing. Send down on them the grace of the Holy Spirit and pour your love into their hearts, that they may remain faithful in the Marriage covenant. May the grace of love and peace abide in your daughter Beatrice Margaret Jorgan, and let her always follow the example of those holy women whose praises are sung in the Scriptures. May her husband entrust his heart to her, so that, acknowledging her as his equal and his joint heir to the life of grace, he may show her due honour and cherish her always with the love that Christ has for his Church. And now, Lord, we implore you: may these your servants hold fast to the faith and keep your commandments; made one in the flesh, may they be blameless in all they do; and with the strength that comes from the Gospel, may they bear true witness to Christ before all; may they be blessed with children, and prove themselves virtuous parents, who live to see their children's children,” there were several bawdy whoops from the crowd, and Arthur blushed while Bea cackled,

“And grant that, reaching at last together the fullness of years for which they hope, they may come to the life of the blessed in the Kingdom of Heaven. Let us offer each other a sign of peace.”

Bea reached into the pocket of her dress, and pulled out a small wooden box. She handed it to Art, and he opened it to reveal a beautiful fountain pen made of carved and polished eucalyptus wood. He smiled at her through tears, and squeezed her hand. He tucked it back into her pocket, and pulled out an envelope from inside his jacket.

Bea opened the envelope and peeked inside. She was never more grateful than in that moment, that her dark skin hid her blushes. Art knew what to look for, and grinned sheepishly at her, squeezing her hand again. She tucked the envelope into her pocket, and nodded to Jim to continue.

Amelia and Elena had been passing baskets of bread rolls around during the prayers, and Jim invited everyone to break bread with their neighbours and share the bounty of the Lord, by way of Amelia's Cakes. “I give you a new commandment that you love one another as I have loved you, says the Lord. Let us pray.”

Jim gestured to the pamphlets again, and waited for everyone to find the right page before continuing.

“By the power of this sacrifice, O Lord, accompany with your loving favour what in your providence you have instituted, so as to make of one heart in love those you have already joined in this holy union through Christ our Lord,” J

im laid a hand on Art’s shoulder, and then one on Bea’s, “May God the Eternal Father keep you of one heart in love for one another, that the peace of Christ may dwell in you and abide always in your home.”

“Amen.”

“May you be blessed in your children, have solace in your friends and enjoy true peace with everyone.”

“Amen.”

“May you be witnesses in the world to God’s charity, so that the afflicted and needy who have known your kindness may one day receive you thankfully into the eternal dwelling of God.”

“Amen.”

“And may the almighty God bless all of you, who are gathered here,” Jim crossed himself, and the gathering followed suit, “by the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit.”

“Amen.”

“Go forth, in peace and enjoy this party and this day.”

The crowd cheered, and dispersed at different intervals. Amelia hobbled over to the barbeque, she had been sitting on her legs and they had fallen asleep, to help assist in sausage distribution. There was a table, with economy sized bottles of tomato and barbeque sauce, as well as a large tray filled with already well burnt sausages and a matching tray of fried onions. The butchery boys had been busy during the ceremony. Amelia grabbed a stack of napkins, and started layering them with bread so that people could easily grab one, grab a sausage, and move on.

A few metres away, on another large table, there was a handful of older women in fancy hats clucking over large bowls of salads. They had removed the fly covers, and set up paper plates and serving spoons.

Jim had undone his collar, and removed the collarette before making his way to the long bench he’d declared was his bar. A couple dozen of the townspeople had donated bottles of liquor for the event, and Jim had volunteered for the job of barman. He much preferred it to preaching, although he also had more practice at the barman thing.

Bea and Art had been led to a small table overlooking the entire scene. There were boxes piled up on either side of the table, wrapped in all different ways. They were gifts, to start the new couple right. There weren’t many young people in their small town, and it had been many years since the last wedding. The townspeople had missed the excitement a good wedding could bring.

Jay and Gracie brought food over for Bea and Arthur, who dived in with enthusiasm and gratefulness. The party went on well into the night, people went home and came back with lamps and torches and a couple of braziers to ward off the night's chill.

* * *

"Now, I've known Art for almost as long as Bea has," Jay began in a carrying voice, tinny in hand, "No one in town has known him longer than Bea, since she was the first person in town he met. And I reckon it was fair over from that moment on. His little shitbox of a car broke down here as he was driving on through to New Adelaide. Bea picked him up in her tow-truck and Art was suddenly sold on small town life. One of the first things art said to me was 'D'you reckon Bea's seeing anyone?' -" the crowd cheered, many of them having heard this story before, "And I said, 'Mate, if you think she'll have you more power to ya.' And you know what? Our Bea surprised everyone yet again. I won't carry on too much, there are too many embarrassing stories to choose from we'd be here all night, I just wanted to say - good on yas both. A cracker party, a cracker day, and here's to a cracking good life." 

Gracie went next, a small tumbler of a clear liquid, replete with lime wedge, in her hand, "I've known Bea since before she was born. I was two years old when she graced us with her presence, and we've been friends basically ever since. When she told me about the skinny, ridiculous, outsider who made the outrageous assumption that she wasn't the B in B's Auto Repair, I thought 'yeah, right. The lady doth complain too much.' When, four months later, that outsider came back and set up shop? You couldn't hear the end of it! 'We do just fine in this town without an accountant', and 'Who does this city slicker think he is telling us how to count numbers', it was then I knew that it was too late for Bea. She was infatuated, though she had a pretty funny way of showing it," a laugh bubbled up from the crowd, "Aw I'm being harsh, Bea loves Art. It shows in everything she does. And on that basis, I know these two will be so happy together. Please, raise your glasses once more - to the bride and groom!"

The speeches concluded, Art and Bea cut the cake, and smushed some into each other’s faces. It was a passionfruit and vanilla creme cake, Amelia had really outdone herself - it was as beautiful as it was delicious. 

The revelry lasted until the wee hours of the morning, until it was just the newlyweds, sitting on a bench in front of a brazier full of coals, watching the sun rise over the horizon.

"It's a new day," Bea said quietly.

"The first day of our new life. How does it feel?"

Bea lifted her head from where it was resting on Art's shoulder, "You know? The same. But more the same. Better the same. Like of every possible outcome, this is the best one."

Art smiled, and kissed her, "Yeah. I think you might be right."


	2. Elizabeth's Last Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years after their marriage, Bea and Arthur have a child together and she goes to a friend's party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks, this is a heavy one I'm sorry to say. Bea has bad luck with family.

**Nov 11, 2213**

There was a scream and Art tumbled out of bed, heart pounding, scrabbling for his glasses and throwing himself at the open door. By the time he’d reached the top of the stairs, the other half of the scream registered and he took a deep shaky breath. Elizabeth was laughing. He went back into the bedroom and pulled on a shirt. He walked carefully down the stairs, the aftermath of the adrenaline making him unsteady.

He landed in the living room, and Bea looked up sheepishly from where she was sitting on the floor tickling a delighted toddler. Elizabeth was squirming and laughing.

“Again mummy! Tickle me!” She demanded. Bea blew a raspberry on Elizabeth’s tummy and picked the girl up for a cuddle.

“How about we make daddy some breakfast as an apology for scaring him just now?”

“Okay!” Elizabeth wriggled out of Bea’s arms, and waddled off towards the kitchen.

“Bea.” Arthur walked over and helped Bea off the ground.

“I know baby,” Bea planted a kiss on Art’s jaw, “I’m sorry for scaring you. I knew the second she laughed you’d wake up, I feel awful.”

Art sighed, and put his hands in the pockets of his pyjama pants. “I just worry, you know? She’s so little.”

“I know,” Bea said quietly, “But we can’t not live our lives. She’ll be fine, I promise. She’ll grow out of it.” She heard a clang from the kitchen, a sure sign Elizabeth was trying to pull something out of a cupboard, and trotted off to investigate.

After breakfast Art tied the rainbow laces on Elizabeth’s sneakers tight, and added a sunhat with a cardboard princess cone to the top of her head.

“Okay kiddo! Let’s get this party started!”

Elizabeth giggled, and jumped up. She collected her basket, carefully arranged with her favourite stuffed toy, a princess wand, her inhaler, and a small and badly wrapped present. They walked down the street to the house on the end of the block, and Maisy’s third birthday party.

Elizabeth babbled about the party, her friends, her stuffed toy, what she was going to eat at the party, how she hoped Maisy liked the bubbles she got as a present.

The party was a wild success. Maisy’s parents, Hannah and Mercy, had set up a sprinkler for the kids to play in while the food was being laid out. There was fairy bread, and lamingtons, and a pinata filled with wrapped lollies and confetti. The cake was a marshmallow monstrosity in the shape of a castle, and lolly bags with snakes and sherbet and lollipops.

At the end of the day, a very tired Art carried Elizabeth home. She was drowsing with her delicate brown cheek smushed against Art’s shoulder and murmuring about how awesome the party was and how awesome her party would be when it was her birthday. He pulled her out of her damp clothes, into a light nightgown, and put her to bed.

He quietly snuck downstairs, and sat down on the sofa. Bea, who was curled up there already, stretched out and rested her legs over his.

“She have fun?”

“Yeah, it was a blast. She was planning her party on the way home.”

Bea chuckled, “That was always going to happen.”

Art smiled at his wife, marvelling at how lucky he was to have such a beautiful family.

“We should have another.”

Bea smiled wryly, “Are you sure? You wanted to kill me by the end of it last time.”

Arthur shook his head, “It’ll be fine. I didn’t kill you after all.”

“Okay,” she said. Arthur shifted on the couch so Bea was under him, his arms wrapped around her, “Woah slow down cowboy, not tonight. I already ordered a pizza.” Art groaned, and sat up.

“Very well,” he sighed with mock disappointment, “Tonight we shall pizza coma, and tomorrow we shall start in earnest to-” Art was cut off with a muffled cry as Bea hit him in the face with a pillow.

The pizza arrived, and they dove into the giant pie. They watched a movie, and suddenly it was ten o'clock.

“Poor Bethy. She must have been really tuckered out after the party! She didn’t get up for water at all.”

Art made a sound of agreement, and they stood and went to bed.

Bea woke in a cold sweat two hours later. She had a feeling of incredible unease, and couldn’t figure out why. She got up and got a glass of water from downstairs. On her way back up, she opened Elizabeth’s door a crack, to reassure herself that she was okay, and still there. Elizabeth had kicked off her blankets in the night, and was sleeping sideways across her bed. Bea smiled, and went to shift her the right way around, and pull the blankets back over her.

As she drew closer, she could hear that Elizabeth’s breathing was laboured. Bea grabbed the spacer from the drawer in Elizabeth’s bedside table and picked her little girl up to sit in her lap.

The second Bea touched Elizabeth’s skin, she knew what was wrong, why she’d woken up.

“Art,” She screamed, and ran with her baby in her arms to their room, “Art honey wake up, we’ve got to go to the hospital.”

Art was already half out of bed, pulling a shirt on and adding slippers. Bea was already out the door, and racing down the stairs to the garage. She threw open the roller shutters, and jumped in the passenger's seat.

She shook Elizabeth gently, “Wake up baby, wake up. You gotta wake up for mummy, okay honey? I need you to use your spacer, okay? It’s very important.” Bea pressed her hand to Elizabeth’s burning forehead, then lifted the girls sweat soaked nightgown off. She fitted the mask in the spacer over Elizabeth’s mouth and depressed the button on the reliever. Elizabeth breathed in, the ingrained memory of how taking over even through her fever. Her breathing got a little less laboured, and Bea depressed the button again. Elizabeth was almost breathing normally by the time Art got in the car, and Bea breathed a sigh of relief.

“I think we’ll be okay,” Bea told him, as he strapped in and pulled the car out of the garage, “Her breathing is much better, but I still think we should go to the hospital.”

They drove across town, and into the emergency room. They checked in, and were taken to a room immediately. No one in the waiting room begrudged being bumped down the list by a sick kid.

The doctor, Maisy’s mum Hannah Chen, came in, and Bea gave her a rundown of what happened in the last twenty minutes.

The doctor pressed a thermometer to Elizabeth’s forehead and her eyes widened. She looked up, and caught Bea’s eye. Bea saw the worry in her eye, and knew something was really wrong. She hit a button over Elizabeth's bed, and an alarm sounded throughout the wing. A nurse rushed in, and herded Bea and Art out of the room.

“No! Where are you taking us! What’s happening to our baby?” Art cried.

Bea was very quiet. She took Art’s hand and led him, still screaming and crying, to the nurses station nearby. It was deserted, everyone that was available in the area had been called to help their child. She got two mugs, and scooped the fossilised remains of coffee from a carafe into them. She added five teaspoons of sugar, and handed it to Art. He stopped screaming, tears still streaming down his face, and took a sip. Bolstered by caffeine and sugar, they walked hand in hand to the waiting area near where their baby was being saved by the finest doctors at Lajamanu Regional Hospital.

After about half an hour, the first doctor came over, and sat opposite Bea and Arthur on the small coffee table. Arthur broke down in tears again, and Bea put her arm around him and looked at the doctor.

“Bea, I’m so sorry,” Art wailed again, and Hannah pressed on, “Her temperature was more than 42 degrees, there’s nothing that we could do. She must have caught a chill at the party, it developed into a fever quite rapidly. There’s no way you could have known until it was too late.”

Bea nodded shortly, “Thank you, Hannah. Can we see her? To say goodbye?”

“Of course. Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll make transport arrangements.”

Bea nodded again, feeling like a bobble head, and led Art into the room where their baby lay dead.

She looked so small in nothing but her knickers, her brown skin contrasting against the stark white hospital sheets. Their little girl with her huge vibrant personality was gone, and all that remained was a tiny body.

Bea walked over, and kissed her baby on the forehead one last time. Art was still trembling on the threshold of the door. She ran her hand down Elizabeth's face, cupping her fat little cheeks. There was little drops of water on Elizabeth’s head, and Bea realised she was still crying. She hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t important.

She walked back over to Art, and led him by the hand out of the room where their only child died. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh pls don't hate me?


	3. Bea goes to the river

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grieving the loss of her only daughter, Bea searches for places where Elizabeth is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content note for suicidal ideation folks

**Jan 8, 2214**

Bea walked around their haunted house in silence.

Bea did everything in silence these days.

She walked around and looked for evidence of where Elizabeth used to be. Looked for the physical impact her beautiful, vibrant little girl made on the world.

She found the place where Elizabeth tripped and cracked a tile on the fireplace with her skull.

She found the place on the mantel where she had begged Bea to add hanging nails to hang stockings for Santa last Christmas.

She found the abandoned growth chart that would forever read seventy-seven centimetres.

She found a finger painting tucked between the fridge and the counter, forgotten in a sea of almost identical paintings that got sent home with Elizabeth from playgroup.

She found the magnets that playgroup had made that year for Fathers Day.

She found the place on the porch where Elizabeth had decided to play with chalk, but had grabbed paint by mistake and created a mural of scribbles vaguely shaped like trees and houses and suns.

She found the rope that hung from the big eucalyptus tree that a tyre swing once hung from.

She found the fairy circle she and Elizabeth had made to mark the edge of where she was allowed to play without supervision.

She found the tree they used to climb together, and the initials they had carved into the trunk.

She found the patch of rocks they spent an afternoon identifying.

She found the hill they used to slide down to get to the trail they used to get to the creek.

She found their abandoned yabbie traps by the side of the creek.

She found the small pier made for jumping off of into the waist high waters below.

She found the places where the creek narrowed out, and the places it thinned until it was barely more than a trickle around some rocks.

She found the places where the water started to pick up speed, and large rocks started to grow.

She found the waterfall, and found no memories of Elizabeth there.

It was dark by the time Art found her, frozen in place on a rock that was hanging over the side of the falls. Relieved, he slumped down onto the rock and put his arms around her. She shivered, and leaned into his warm embrace. They sat there together, and watched the moon rise over the tree line. 


	4. Emery Plays in the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years since the death of their daughter, Bea and Art are healing with the help of their son, Emery.

**Jan 8, 2220**

Bea watched as Emery walked around the garden, dragging the watering can along behind him. It was too big and heavy for his four year old frame, but he was determined to water his plants with it all the same. The process would take another hour, Emery insisted on greeting every plant and telling it a story before watering it and moving on. He had names and backgrounds for each plant, treating them like other children treated dolls and stuffed animals. 

All indications were that Emery would grow up fine. He was tall for his age group and showed no indications of asthma or other illness. Having all that information didn’t stop Bea from worrying. She sighed, and put down her mug of tea before going outside to play in the sun, with her son. 


	5. Katie and Marc and NYE 2229

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nine years since the last instalment, we finally meet Katie and Marc, and they meet each other for the first time.

**Dec 31, 2229**

Katie was standing in one corner of the crowded living room, deliberately ignoring her phone and the dozen or so messages Antoni had left, staring at the striking man with curly hair who seemed to be oblivious to the party going on around him. People would walk over and chat briefly but would quickly move on when it became clear he wasn’t much interested in what they had to say. She downed the rest of her drink, and made her way across the room to try her luck. 

Marc was sitting in the corner of the crowded room, having dragged an armchair over there as people had started to file in. Parties weren’t his scene anymore, now that he was supposed to be a respectable teacher’s aide (and now that he couldn’t play beer pong without a reversal of fortune). So he sat in the corner reading on his phone. Occasionally people would wander over and say hello, but the party was to great a lure to ignore for too long, and they left as easily as they came. 

He was reading a particularly interesting ancient text on the rise and fall of a particular fictional institution when a hand appeared, palm up, in front of his screen. 

  
“Come on,” Marc looked up at the speaker, and the owner of the hand, “We’re going to the roof. It’s quieter up there.”

“Who –”

“Come on,” she wiggled her hand insistently; he took it and was pulled to his feet. 

Katie could not believe how well that worked. She had this hot guy by his hand and was leading him to the roof so they could be alone. She let go of his hand to open the lock on the rooftop door, and he took it again when she was done. They sat leaning against the air conditioning units and looked up at the stars, naming as many as they could and making up names and stories for the rest. 

The fireworks had just begun, and Marc stood suddenly, letting go of Katie’s hand.

“Oh, no it’s midnight.”

“Probably, the fireworks are going. Why, are you going to turn into a pumpkin?”

Marc looked down at Katie, “Funny, no I have to go back to the party for a minute.”

“What? Why? Is there someone down there you’re supposed to kiss?” Katie laughed with more joy than she felt. 

Marc bent down and kissed her firmly on the lips, “No that person is up here. I’ve got to go indulge a superstition. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Marc raced down the stairs, cursing himself at his forwardness – _you _ _ don’t even know her name – _ and banged on the door to the party. Karen opened the door, and brightened when she saw who it was. 

“Lucky! You’re right on time, please, come in.” She drew him into a hug, and closed the door behind them. 

“Here, I have a bit of plant for you,” Marc pulled out a eucalyptus branch with some leaves on it still from his pocket. “I’ve got to go again, bye.” He turned around to go out the only door and was stopped. 

“You can’t leave yet, you have to say hello to everyone.” 

“But –” 

“No buts! Come on, it’s tradition!”

Katie sat against the air con unit and waited for her mystery man to get back. She put her hand against her lips, trying to keep the feeling of his pressed against hers there as long as she could. Twenty minutes passed, and the shiny edges to everything that the kiss had brought were disappearing, and things were starting to come back into focus. Who was this guy? They’d talked for hours but she didn’t know anything about him. She shook her head. She didn’t need another paramour, this was going to be a night of fun and mental engagement but that would be the end of it. 

More time passed, and Katie was starting to get bored. She was reading a summary of the book he has told her he was reading but it wasn’t grabbing her attention, which was firmly on the party and the people in it. She shook her head and stood, enough was enough. She’d pop her head in and say goodbye to Michelle and Karen and be on her merry. 

Marc had been around the entire party, saying hello to people and giving them every trinket in his pockets. He managed to make his way back to the front door, when he was stopped again by Karen. 

“You can’t go out the door yet Lucky, you’ll pull all the good fortune you’ve just wrought with you!”

“Karen, look I did you your favour but I have to go. There’s someone waiting for me on the roof.”

Karen’s eyes hardened, “Fine. You’ll have to go out the window then, because you can’t leave through this door until tomorrow. You said that wasn’t going to be a problem when I asked you. You said were looking forward to this.” 

Marc sighed, “Do we have to do this now? I thought you were over this.”

Karen huffed, and dragged Marc by the arm to the nearest window. She wrenched it open and gestured for him to leave. He shrugged, eager to get back to the roof, and climbed out onto the exterior windowsill. Karen promptly closed the window behind him, and locked it. 

“Hells bells Karen,” Marc muttered as he edged along the windowsill of the third storey apartment. He managed to make it to the fire escape, and clambered to the top of the roof only to find it empty. Swearing he walked around the roof, looking for any sign of the mystery woman he’d left the party for. 

There was none, she was gone. 


	6. Katie plays detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their ill-fated parting four days prior, and four days of pining, Katie is on the warpath trying to find her mystery man.

**Jan 3, 2230**

Katie knocked on Antoni’s door for the third time, fidgeting nervously in place. The iced tea she had brought as a bribe was dripping with condensation, and the ice had started to dissipate in the early Darwin heat. While she was giving the tray a joggle, as if that would magically reform the ice, the door opened and Antoni was standing there in a towel, fresh from the shower. Making very deliberate eye contact, Katie held one of the iced tea cups forward and pushed her way in the door.

Setting her own half empty cup down on Antoni’s counter, she rummaged in the freezer for more ice cubes and added them to her drink. Antoni sat down on the other side of the counter and stared at her. She put ice cubes in his cup as well.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Katie sucked more iced tea through her straw, still only looking at Antoni’s eyes. 

“Katie.”

“Yeap?”

“Why are you here?”

“I needed some answers about the ah, new years party? I was ah, not expecting you to be here an-”

“Katie I live here, and you brought me iced tea-”

“Well obviously I expected you to be here, I just wasn’t expecting so much of you to be here.”

“Katie. I live here. You came to me. What is this?” Antoni stood and went to make his way around the counter.

“No! Wait, please. Can you put some clothes on? I ah, I can’t concentrate with you all drippy like that.”

Smirking, Antoni rose more slowly, and very deliberately walked out of the kitchen. Katie let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. This would be harder than she thought. She cleared enough space on the counter for her to sit, and she pulled herself up on it, crossing her legs and waiting for Antoni to finish deciding what to wear. 

Finally, he slowly made his way to stand back in front of Katie, resting his hips gently against her crossed knees. Keeping eye contact, he took a long drink through the straw, and waited for Katie to speak. She squirmed, and took the cup away from him. He leaned forward to kiss her, and met her hand instead.

Confused, he pulled away, “What?”

“This isn’t about that. Well, it’s sort of about that but mostly its not mostly it’s about New Years an-”

Antoni’s eyes darkened, “Oh, so you’ll finally tell me where you went to eh?”

Katie pressed her lips into a frown, “Yes. But I need your help first.”

Antoni huffed a sigh, and threw his hands into the air, “Fine. What do you need.”

Katie pulled her phone out of her pocket and showed him a blurry picture of man with curly brown hair. “Do you know who this guy is?”

Antoni squinted at the picture for a minute, before drawing his head back. “No, I think that’s one of Michelle’s friends though, you could ask her,” Katie nodded, not happy but satisfied her investigation hadn’t ended. Antoni bumped against her legs to get her attention “Is this where you went on New Year's?” 

Katie blushed and looked down. Antoni’s eyebrows shot up, “Katie, wow. Love is a good look on you.” Katie laughed and leaned forward to rest her head against Antoni’s chest.

“Is it that obvious?” 

“No. Well, it is to me. I imagined often enough what that would look like -”

“Antoni.”

“No, no. I know,” Antoni smiled bitterly, “my choice, my drama. I’ll deal.”

Katie smiled against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. They stayed like that for a few moments, just enjoying the shared familiarity of someone comfortable.

“I should go. Thanks for your help, Antoni. You’re a good person.” Antoni chuckled.

“I could have told you that,” he withdrew his arms, and stepped back, “come on, get out. I don’t have time to be sad about you today, so you need to go.” Katie jumped down, and bounded towards the door.

“Thank you Antoni! This is important!” She wrenched the door open, and let it slam closed behind her.

Flicking through the contacts list on her phone as she bounded down the stairs, Katie found Michelle’s contact card, and sent a chat request through. Michelle picked up almost immediately and opened the video function.

“Oh, stars. Katie what are yo- where are you? It’s seven in the damn morning why are you bouncing all over the place, please slow down!”

“Can’t! You still at the Anula place?”

“We- yeah! Why?” Michelle covered her eyes, “I’m not talking at you any more until you stop shaking the damn camera this is giving me motion sickness.”

Katie's feet slapped the bottom floor as she jumped down the half remaining flight of stairs. “Okay. Done. Walking normally now. Do you want breakfast? What sort of breakfast do you want? Do you still take your coffee with hazelnut and milk? How do you feel about breakfast muffins but like the ones that are cornbread but with an egg cracked on top and left to cook a bit in the oven?”

“Yes, sure that sounds good. Katie why is it seven in the morning?”

“Well, you see the progression of time is such -”

“Shut up. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yep!” Katie said, and disconnected the call. 

Forty minutes later, coffee and egg corn muffins in hand, Katie banged on the door to Michelle’s house. Opening the door in a soft robe, Michelle took the coffee tray from Katie, gave her a peck on the cheek and motioned for her to come in. Katie continued through the house and went out the back door, to sit on a hanging bench that was installed on the back patio. Tucking her legs beneath her, and picking at the muffin in her hand Katie waited for Michelle to arrive before she started asking questions.

Michelle sat next to Katie, and leaned against her, forcing Katie to raise her arm and put it around her shoulders. They sat like this for a few minutes, while Michelle put a dent in the coffee Katie had brought. Eventually, Michelle tired of Katie’s nervous energy jiggling her cup while she tried to get at it. She sat up, and said “Okay, enough. Why are you here? Give me that muffin.” Katie obliged, and pulled out her phone to get to the relevant picture.

Michelle bit down on the muffin, groaning with satisfaction. When she opened her eyes, Katie had turned fully to face her, and was holding her phone at the ready for inspection. Michelle squinted at the photo, and traded Katie her muffin for it. “Hang on, lemme get mine.” Michelle returned Katie's phone, stood and ducked back into the house. 

She re-emerged with her own phone, and was flipping through an unseen interface to find what she was looking for. Once she found what she was after, she made a flicking motion and Katie’s phone chimed and woke up. 

“Is that the guy?” Michelle asked.

Katie nodded, excitedly, “That’s him! Who is he?”

“Seriously. This was about a guy? Katie it is Eight O'Clock on a Sunday Morning. I thought this was a purely theoretical time of day and I was happy for it to remain that way for the rest of my life. Are you really telling me that you woke me up this early to bribe me with coffee and food for a guy?”

“Well. Yes? I mean. Is this really that out of character? Antoni said -”

“Antoni said? Did that rat bastard send you here? I will crush his skull with my bum, the little-”

“Hey nah nah I bribed it out of him too, and I was there even earlier he was my first stop.”

Michelle huffed out a breath, and leaned back.

Katie fidgeted. “So...”

“Quiet now, I’m deciding whether I should not tell you as punishment.”

“Michelle!”

“Quiet!”

Katie sat quietly, for a subjective age. She reached for her phone to browse something while she did, and Michelle slapped her hand down. Katie had almost finished counting the number of flowers on a nearby plant when Michelle let out a slow breath.

“Okay, fine,” She picked her phone back up and made a few more gestures, and Katie’s phone chimed again. “That’s what I’ve got. You can do the rest yourself, no waking more people up, hey? This is unreasonable. Couldn’t this have waited another few hours?” Katie was already getting up.

“Probably, but you know me. Short attention span,” she bounced towards the back door, “Thank you! Love you! See you on Friday!”

“You won’t!” Michelle called back.

“Friday!"


	7. Emery "meets" Marc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a mysterious and beautiful professor catches Emery's eye

**July - August 2235**

Emery’s eyes follow a striking man with curly brown hair as he walks across the courtyard where he and Saf were sharing lunch. The man seems lost in thought, and he stumbles as his foot catches a brick that had fallen out of line from the garden bed. He frowns at the brick, then bends to pick it up and replaces it in its space. Emery huffs a quiet chuckle, and answers the question Saf asked about their upcoming class.

  
  


Emery sees the man with the curly hair again later that week. He’s weaving his way through a busy hallway, eyes on his datapad as he almost dances in the spaces between the dawdling students on their way to and fro. His movements are graceful and precise. Hardly anyone notices as he walks past, no ripples in the crowd left in his weaving wake.

  
  


Emery sees the man with the curly hair walking down a deserted hallway near the biology labs. He calls out a greeting, but the man with the curly hair does not hear him. 

  
  


Emery and Saf are eating in the courtyard again, and Emery is watching the area, hoping to see the beautiful man with the curly hair again. Emery has decided that he wants to date this mystery man. Or at least find out his name.

  
  


Emery realises he has never seen the beautiful mystery man in the same place twice. He gives up haunting the places he has encountered the man. Except the abandoned corridor, that’s a great place for quiet thinking time. 

  
  


Emery is sketching a picture of his mystery man while he has a free period. He’d been working on the sketch all morning in the middle of a sun soaked expanse of grass. Saf sunk unceremoniously into the grass next to him, and her girlfriend Gail sat opposite them both. 

“Ooh is this him?” Saf took the sketchpad from Emery’s hands.

“Hey! Gimme.” Emery lunged for the device, but Saf had rolled away. She landed beside her girlfriend and showed her the drawing.

“This is the one I was telling you about. I’ve only seen him once, but this is a good likeness Em!”

Gail took the sketchpad from Saf, and examined the drawing. 

“This looks like one of the humanities faculty. Professor Riggs, I think?”

Saf and Emery stared at her.

“Are you telling me,” Saf began, “That you held the answer. To our months long conundrum. In your beautiful head?” Gail blushed, and nodded.

“I think so. You should check the faculty page to be sure.”

Emery had already pulled his datapad out of his pocket and was searching the university’s webpage. 

“That’s it,” he said finally, “That’s him. Marc Riggs, professor of Ancient Literature. Got his doctorate in the same in 2231. There’s a list of his classes.” Emery scrolled through the list for a few minutes.

“Ha! Ah ha! There’s one that doesn’t have any pre-reqs. I’m taking Ancient Media and its Echoing Impact next term.”

“Em,” Saf frowned, “You’re studying biology, are you really going to clog your class list with a useless humanities class?”

“Hey!” Gail protested. Safiya patted her leg.

“Talk the plant boy out of extended English now, yell at me later.” 

Gail shook her head. “No, it's a great class. Professor Riggs is an excellent teacher. You’d do well by taking his class Emery, I haven’t yet, but I’m planning to next year when I have some space in my schedule.” Saf rolled her eyes, and Gail caught it so she huffed, and walked off. 

Saf threw her hands in the air, crying “Nature, save me from arts students!” 

Emery grinned, “That was quick, usually they last at least another week before they huff off like that. You've got a gift.”


End file.
